


Going To Church

by Arleneisme



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Doctor Feels (Doctor Who), Doctor Who Feels, Eleventh Doctor Era, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Goofy Doctor, Humor, Love, Love Confessions, POV Female Character, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexual Content, Silly Doctor, Smut, Two Shot, Worried Doctor, caring doctor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arleneisme/pseuds/Arleneisme
Summary: The fateful night you clasped the Doctor's eagerly extended hand dashing behind him as he tugged you aboard his ridiculously beautiful blue box you signed an invisible contract. Thus, accepting his exotic madness into your life and agreeing, albeit silently, that you are ok with the idea of, ‘whatever happens, happens.'Unbeknownst to you that during your daydreaming and the loud hiss of the heating shower you failed to hear the distinct sound of the TARDIS materializing in your bedroom. Oh silly Doctor what situation are you getting yourself into now, hmmm?





	Going To Church

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work! I have had this story on the brain for a while and I am extremely stoked to finally be able to post it! Ultimately, I opted to break it into two chapters because I do SO enjoy my smut to be...*ahem*...in detail...;) Therefore, I didn't want to cause head explosions due to my wordiness. 
> 
> Please enjoy, let me know your thoughts (if you want more, more, more!), share the love and motivate me to keep on writing! :) Love you all!! <3

Swiveling deliberately, you observe your form in the mirror, mentally taking note of each bruise and scrape that you had incurred earlier that day while traveling alongside the Doctor. Jumping into the exhilarating chaos headfirst never got old, and if you were honest, the marks on your flesh didn't bother you, this was expected to happen when living the life of an adventurer.

The fateful night you clasped the Doctor's eagerly extended hand dashing behind him as he tugged you aboard his ridiculously beautiful blue box you signed an invisible contract. Thus, accepting his exotic madness into your life and agreeing, albeit silently, that you are ok with the idea of, ‘whatever happens, happens.'

Frankly, in your opinion, whatever injuries you sustained were worth the vibrancy that the Doctor had brought into your world. Prior to him crashing into your life amidst a flurry of chaos and fire, you led an existence painted lackadaisically in shades of gray. In reality, the brisk winter night he fell to earth, challenging everything you thought to be true about your very existence, was the best thing that ever happened to you.

Reminiscing about that night always left you with the sensation of butterflies fluttering wildly deep in your stomach. After working an arduous and hectic weekend waiting tables, you found yourself with your hand stupidly raised in the air volunteering to stay after hours to close up the restaurant. Despite the fact that you were exhausted heaven knew you needed the money, the pile of ever growing ‘past due' bills weren't going away, and you could use the help.

Blowing out a sigh you complete the itemized list of locking up by dead bolting the front door. Grabbing your heavy parka off the coat rack tucked in the waiting area corner you are startled by a smash that erupted from the kitchen. Fearing that someone broke into the back, you creep cautiously towards where the offending noise had originated. Peeking through the round window of the swinging kitchen door and scanning the room warily observing nothing out of the ordinary until your gaze reaches the far-right corner.

Whatever the creature was had it's back to you, however, judging by the metallic chrome plating that covered the expanse of its body it was clearly not from this world. Squinting you attempt to get a better look at what was conspiring as it seemed that the robot (could you even call it that?) had a person trapped in the corner.

What appeared to be a young gentleman (roguishly handsome if you must say so yourself) jabbered incessantly, the thick mahogany door made it difficult to hear what he was rambling but it seemed he was…British? Based on the current predicament he was in you could only deduce that he needed help, figuring as there was a large weapon pointed at his face.

Steadily you leaned into the door opening it just enough for you to squeeze through. The movement of you slipping between the crack in the door caught the captive man's attention, with a knowing look in his eyes his gaze met yours only briefly. Not missing a beat, he dove back into his rant, attempting to hold the robots attention long enough for you to intervene.

Tiptoeing further into the kitchen you cautiously slunk over to where the pots and pans were stored. Reaching down you feel around blindly until your fingers run across what you know to be the heaviest cast iron skillet in the whole kitchen. Both hands wound around the cold iron handle generating a firm grip as you crept up behind the robot. Mustering all your strength, you raise it high above your head bringing it down swiftly onto the robot's metallic dome.

The booming clang of metal against metal sounded followed by a flurry of blue sparks that fizzled and sputtered outwards in all directions. Immediately, the mechanical being powered down, slumping awkwardly to the floor a string of garbled noises which you could only assume was its protests dragging deep from within. 

Unable to tear your eyes away from where the robot had crumpled to the floor, panting your heart pounding frantically in your chest, the cast iron skillet weighing heavily in your slightly trembling hands. Thoughts going a million miles an hour, ‘Oh my hell, did I really just do that? Is this even real? I must be dreaming…'

The sensation of another pair of eyes studying you was overwhelming, tugging you away from your frenzied thoughts and back to the present. Calming yourself as best you could, you took ragged drawn breaths forcing yourself to raise your startled gaze. If your heart hadn't been racing before it would have picked up a flurried pace as you now came face to face with the man you just saved.

The fringe of his brown hair hung haphazardly in an untamed manner over his hazel eyes that twinkled mischievously. Tucking some kind of odd pen-shaped device into the pocket of his jacket he freed up his hand to smooth his locks from his vision. After which he peered sheepishly in your direction granting you a lopsided smile. All your life you never really considered that you had a "type" but the moment he flashed that smile, bam, you were a goner… It was over; throw your white flag in the air signaling surrender! 

Your mind dumbly worked overtime attempting and failing miserably to formulate any form of a coherent sentence that you could possibly think of. Unfortunately, instead, you proceeded to stand motionless with what you could assume was a dumbfounded look on your face, the awkward hold you had on the skillet causing a deep ache in your arms.

Breaking the awkward silence the man thrust his hand out prying one of yours from the handle of the pan gripping it warmly. Abruptly, he begins to shake it vigorously, so enthusiastically you almost lose your balance, "Helloooooo! I'm the Doctor! How absolutely lovely to meet you!" he grinned broadly before releasing your hand to step back brushing at some invisible dust along the shoulder of his tweed jacket.

Throwing his arms up excitedly, he continues exclaiming, "And I must say I've never met a lady with an arm quite like yours! If you hadn't intervened, I'm sure I would have been turned into putty! Well…maybe a paste? Possibly some kind of paste-like substance… Definitely not custard consistency..." trailing off he begins scratching his chin thoughtfully before snapping back to reality just as quickly.

Removing the pan from your hand, he observed it curiously, "Interesting weapon this is..." Eyeing him guardedly, you speak for the first time since the whole odd encounter began, "Y-you don't know what a…frying pan is?" Narrowing his eyes the Doctor brings the pan towards his mouth giving it a quick lick followed by a disgusted face, "Of course I know what a frying pan is, it's a...uhm..." trailing off once more he retrieves the strange device he tucked in his pocket. Pointing it directly at the skillet a high-pitched whirring fills the space, the tip of it glowing a translucent green.

Flicking the device down, it extends, prongs suddenly protruding in an almost frightening way. Raising it up he analyses it with an inquisitive furrow in his brow before proceeding, "...not a weapon! Yes! Of course. Just a simple, mundane, _boring_ cooking device, why would I think it was a weapon? Not a weapon, not a weapon at all…"

Fumbling awkwardly, he almost drops the pan to the floor but snatches it at the last second, sending his lanky limbs swinging widely, setting it back on the counter almost comically he clears his throat adjusting his bowtie, "Who knew a kitchen utensil could take down a Cyberman?! Magnificent! I will be adding that one to the books, possibly could come in handy later." Furrowing your brow, you inquire, "A Cyberman? What exactly is a Cyberman?"

Running his hand through his hair he ruffles it, frowning, "Well a Cyberman is..." but before he could explain further a laser flies between your bodies, hitting the kitchen stove on the opposite wall triggering an explosion, engulfing it in flames. Seizing your hand, the Doctor wildly beelines it for the nearest exit with you in tow, finishing his answer to your question by yelling over his shoulder, "…is something to explain later! Let's go!"

Bursting through the kitchen doors into the main area of the restaurant, the Doctor weaves haphazardly between the tables hauling you towards the main entrance. Reaching the aged wooden door, the Doctor slams his shoulder into it before yanking his device from its resting place, pointing it at the lock only to have it whir sputtering in protest. Shaking it frantically he cries in frustration, "A wood door?! Who has wood doors at restaurants anymore?!"

A crash emanates from directly behind the kitchen door followed by the thunderous sound of marching steps vibrating so intensely that the ceiling begins to crumble, plaster falling to the ground. Hollering over the chaos, you counter, "Lots of places! This building is a 100 years old, plus..." reaching your other hand over him you unlatch the deadbolt, "it would probably help if you just unlocked it."

Glimpsing over his shoulder, eyes twinkling with mischievously he practically praises you in a husky tone, "You witty and cheeky girl!" Responding to his compliment blood rushes to your cheeks, a sensation of elation puttering amongst the thunder of your heart, the blast of chilled winter air stings your face yanking you from your romantic thoughts as the Doctor resumes his mad dash out onto the street.

Moving swiftly the Doctor leads the way, darting down the iced sidewalk, rounding the corner into a nearby alley. Nestled between the dumpster which you had dumped trash into hundreds of times and the crumbling brick of the adjacent building sat a very out of place blue police call box. The blue was the most striking color you had ever seen, complimented by the light perched on top radiating like a beacon.

"Come on!" The Doctor urged loudly, motioning towards the blue box, only for you to stare at him with total befuddlement. Uncertainty instantly flooding you, none of this was making sense, you were running away down a dead-end alley and into a box? Was he insane?! He was going to get the both of you killed! "No..." you deadpanned in response, pulling your hand from his inviting grip.

Whipping around the Doctor stares you straight in the eyes a look of confusion evident on his face. Beginning to babble, you choke back a scared sob, "No! I can't. I-I don't even know you! And-and I have responsibilities I need to take care of. I can't just run away with you! I can't."

Time almost stood still has he placed his hands on either side of your neck, resting his thumbs on your cheeks stroking at them tenderly. To this day how a single touch could be so genuinely sincere, heartfelt both lovingly and achingly, you would never know, but what you did know was instantly you trusted him with everything.

It felt as if the flecks of snow that began to fall from the velvety dark sky stood suspended has he spoke softly and with assurance, puffs of steam tumbling from his pursed lips and wafting upwards, "You can trust me. Please...just...believe in me." Looking intently at him with watery eyes you breathed out almost noiselessly, "Okay..."

And the rest you could say was history…

Since then you have been traveling with the Doctor, acting as his companion (as he likes to call it) but you rather prefer the term friend. Standing as the voice of reason throughout his moments of flightiness or providing emotional grounding during those instances where he is about to burst with pent up sentiment. The Doctor calls you companion, you call yourself friend, but in reality, you longed for it to be more…

* * *

Smoothing your hands along the curve of your naked form you turn away from the bathroom mirror. Pushing the romantic ideals of the Doctor from your thoughts you set about to do what you wanted to in the first place, getting cleaned up before attending to your wounds.

Deciding on a shower, you cross the bathroom drawing open the shower curtain, leaning over you turn the knob bringing water rushing out of the tub's spout. Testing the water you curse internally, ‘Damn these old pipes, the water is going to take forever to warm up.'

Getting up from the edge of the tub you elect to retrieve some clean clothes from your dresser. Knowing you were the only one here you didn't bother to wrap a towel around your naked frame as you padded softly down the hall to your room. Unbeknownst to you that during your day dreaming and the loud hiss of the heating shower you failed to hear the distinct sound of the TARDIS materializing in your bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well...what will happen next? I promised smut in the tags, so therefore, my dear readers I will be giving you smut! Stay tuned my loves. :) 
> 
> And of course...  
> *cough*  
> I do love some validation. ;) Thank you!


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